


Talk Politics to Me

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Aren't they the same thing, Dirty Talk, Hurt/Comfort, Mistress, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Politics, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26232184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama
Summary: The Landsmeet holds no easy solutions for a Warden Aeducan. She knows politics, but Alistair does not. Anora knows Ferelden, which she does not. She and Alistair know what the common folk suffer from the Blight, which Anora does not. Maybe the solution is easy after all, so long as hearts don't get involved.
Relationships: Female Aeducan/Alistair (Dragon Age), Female Aeducan/Alistair/Anora Mac Tir
Comments: 12
Kudos: 13
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	Talk Politics to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Settiai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Settiai/gifts), [gamerfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamerfic/gifts), [Sheeana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheeana/gifts).



Sereda Aeducan chewed her lip as she looked between Alistair and Eamon. His protest shouldn’t have caught her off-guard, but it did. In Orzammar, this would be easy.

Eamon stroked his beard, and she relaxed at the familiar sight (if a foot and a half too high). “That  _ would  _ be the best solution. If Alistair and Anora agree, it would combine the two strongest claims.”

“But we don’t even know each other! And…” Alistair trailed off, though his eyes said everything else as he looked down at her.  _ And I love you. _

“Let me talk to Anora,” she said. “Remember, I grew up on politics. This’ll work, Al. Trust me.”

He sighed and squared his shoulders. “I do. You know...I’ll just be in our room. With Barkspawn.”

She smiled at the name. “Last time I ever let you name a mabari, especially when he’s theoretically mine. I’ll be there in a bit.”

Once they parted in the hall, she walked down the wing to the suite Eamon had given Anora. There was a solution, an easy one. Sereda knocked on the door, breathing in the oiled wood and feeling a sting in her eyes because it should have been dust and stone, lit by the slightly-orange lava running everywhere. She bit her lip; Orzammar was in the past, along with Gorim and...everything. She had Alistair and the Wardens, and their misfit band of rejects now. No matter what, she  _ wouldn’t  _ tell Alistair to give up everything because of politics. She couldn’t do it again, not when Gorim…

“Enter,” came the composed voice from within.

She could feel the way her heart pounded, how every sound was shaper, how her skin prickled. She was an  _ Aeducan,  _ this is what she was made for - and she loved it. She still paused for one extra moment to take a breath and remind herself to stay professional. Then she opened the door.

When Sereda entered, Anora’s eyes widened slightly. “So, have you come to a decision? Will you support me for my throne?”

“Yes, but I had a suggestion. There’s a way to strengthen your hold further and help you keep legitimacy. The civil war has torn apart your country, and trust me, hard feelings don’t just magically go away.”

“Of that I am well aware.” The Queen motioned toward comfortable chairs and poured wine. The respect and courtesy didn’t go unnoticed - even Eamon sometimes forgot that she was a princess. “The politic solution for the good of Ferelden would be for Alistair and I to marry. But even if he  _ didn’t  _ look like my dead husband, there is the way he looks at you.”

She drank rather than answer Anora’s implied question, rolling the different answers over. A bright solution shone in her mind. “Yes, and I love him, too. But that doesn’t have to stop this, does it?”

Anora ran one finger along the rim of her glass and shook her head. “No, it doesn’t.” She sighed, and Sereda ached for what she’d asked the Queen to do. “Cailan had mistresses, too. I must insist that Alistair also agree to this - he is a good man, and doesn’t deserve to be forced into it. Also, I am the one with the knowledge and experience in running a country, not he. If he is willing to be the Theirin on the throne and allow me to continue ruling Ferelden, I have no protest against it.”

“You really care about the country first, don’t you?” The question leapt out of her mouth, and she winced. The high of seeing the Queen in her element managed to snatch her tongue from her brain. “That sounded worse than I meant it to. In Orzammar, politics are about your House first - or yourself. There’s a reason…”

Anora smiled. It was a  _ nice  _ smile, one that hid neither her intelligence nor the mirth that Sereda’s misstep caused. She even had a little freckle just above the right side of her mouth. Then she chuckled. “Yes, I do. My father taught me that.” Anora’s voice turned sad. “He understood that, once. I...yes, if Alistair agrees, I will rule with him at my side. But please, if you can find mercy for my father, I would ask that you do so.”

**

Alistair had been harder to convince, but she had. “Look, Anora doesn’t need to share our bed or anything!” Though now that she said it, the thought of the Queen with her hidden depths and smooth skin pressed up against her was tempting. She filed that thought for later, along with Alistair’s flush. They could talk about that later.  _ Much  _ later. Well, maybe just a little later. “What matters is that this is how we can help Ferelden and stop the stupid war. You don’t even have to rule - Anora’s been doing it for years, and I was trained to it. We’ll take care of all of that, if you can lead people. You’re  _ good  _ with people, Alistair. They like you.”

_ Not like me  _ hung between them. Sereda licked her lips as everything hung on her words.

Alistair nodded. “If you’re sure,” he said. “So long as we can stay together, I’m good with whatever you want.”

Ok, maybe ‘later’ would need to be ‘now.’ Or she needed to take a bath, because she wasn’t ready to climb into bed just now, not when part of her mind, the  _ princess  _ part of her mind, was thinking about Anora instead of the man she loved. Then again, maybe she  _ was.  _

He didn’t mind one bit.

**

‘Whatever you want’ turned into something a lot more than just marrying a Queen, but Alistair was as true to his word as he ever had been. That’s how they both wound up in the same bed, being looked after the same healers, after he insisted on killing Urthemiel ‘just in case I did it wrong.’

Sereda wasn’t going to explain that there weren’t (technically) ways to do sex wrong, and Morrigan’s magic had always been good, and besides, his legs were longer. So she had to deal with three genlocks while  _ he  _ got to gloriously charge at Urthemiel before they both got blasted into the Void. 

Stone, that hurt.

Ancestors, waking up hurt more. But this time the weight settling on the edge of the bed wasn’t the snippy healer who insisted it was all in their minds. Turquoise eyes looked down at her, soft with concern. “I wanted to check on you, and the healer couldn’t deny me.”

Anora’s hands felt cool against her burning skin, and she smiled up at the Queen. “We Wardens are hard to kill.” She coughed. “Not hard to hurt, though.  _ Stone.  _ Next time, it’s someone else’s turn.”

“You worried me.”

“Worried?” Sereda blinked. “I’m surprised you cared past Urthemiel. You don’t know me from anyone and after the Landsmeet, I assumed you’d want me gone.”

Then she watched the flush creep along Anora’s neck, and swore again. “Blighted - I did it again. I don’t usually shove my foot down my throat.” It only happened when she caught feelings, she thought. Except - no, that wasn’t possible. She  _ couldn’t  _ have caught feelings. She cared about  _ Alistair.  _ She loved the man, right next to her, pretending he was still asleep or dreaming or whatever.  _ She  _ knew better, even if Anora didn’t know that if he was really asleep, he snorted every fourth breath.

“Of course I care.” Her eyes were veiled by her lashes for a moment, then she looked back at Sereda. “He is a good man, and you two are very lucky.”

_ Oh.  _

Sereda kicked Alistair enough that he grunted and shifted. Anora used it as an excuse to look at him for a while, then stand. “You know, for all he looks like Cailan, he has his own charm, doesn’t he? I’ll send in some soup for the two of you.”

Anora left too briskly to be casual, but too smoothly to say she fled.

Alistair’s eyes popped open as soon as the door closed.

“What was  _ that  _ all about? Are you  _ really  _ thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“Maaayybe?” Alistair chuckled as she used his own style of talking against him, then winced. She knew better than to chuckle along, but turned to wrap an arm around his chest. In bed, she was as tall as he was.  _ And as tall as someone else, with long blonde hair…  _ “You’re the one who brought up her being in our bed, after all.”

“She! I! But!”

Sereda laughed, and the pain was worth it to see him so flustered. “So you  _ don’t  _ want it?”

“I...well...I love you, you know that. And she’s…”

“But she’s pretty, and strong, and you’re interested. Bet she whimpers when she comes.”

A quick glance down the bed showed that whatever he was saying, she was reading him right.

“Ooh, or did you manage to sneak your sword into bed?”

“Sword, no! Dagger…” Alistair sighed. “Look, yes, she’s gorgeous. And smart. And strong. But she’s also the widow of my  _ brother,  _ and-”

Sereda kissed him. “And we have plenty of time to talk, but he’s been dead and mourned a year. I don’t mind asking if she’s interested.”

He held her close. Just before the soup came, he whispered “I bet she sighs. Whimpering’s too undignified.”

**

Turns out, Anora  _ was  _ interested in more than just a political solution.

Fourteen weeks later, Sereda laughed and looked over at Alistair. “Pay up.”

“What?”

“I  _ told  _ you she’d whimper.  _ You  _ thought she’d sigh.”

The third member of the pile of limbs lifted her head. “Excuse me, but did you two really make  _ bets  _ on  _ that?”  _

Sereda kissed Anora’s shoulder. “I’m Noble Caste, your majesty. I make bets on  _ everything.  _ Besides, I was right.”

“You cheat,” Alistair protested, wrapped around her back. “And that’s also why you’re in the middle.”

“Nonsense,” she said comfortably. “You two get to parade in front of all the court together,  _ including  _ the dancing. I get the middle of the bed because I’m smaller and you two can reach over me. The reverse can _ not  _ be said.”

“Yeah, well you two get all of the Bannorn meetings?”

Even Anora giggled at that one. “You mean, Alistair, the meetings you’d rather lose your tongue than go to?”

“Well, but  _ you  _ two enjoy them together, and then spend the next two hours chatting about tax policy.”

“I like your tongue,” Sereda bantered at him, “so you don’t get to come. Besides, we get girl time.”

Said tongue traced the outside of her ear, and she shivered. “I know you do,” he murmured as his hand drifted lower. “Among other things.”

Anora’s hand joined his, then transferred it to her hip as Alistair’s mouth kept exploring Sereda’s ear and neck. From the way Anora’s eyes dilated, Alistair didn’t mind one bit. “I have to say,” she murmured, “your idea turned out much better than I could have anticipated, Chancellor.”

“Oooh, talk dirty to me,” she teased to Anora, “You know I like it when you do that.”

“I didn’t,” laughter rippled through the Queen’s voice, “before now.”


End file.
